I Already Knew
by Immi
Summary: After failing to ask Catherine out on a date, Sara gets a nasty shock. CathSara, GS friendship. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing besides my personality- I'm definitely in the red.

* * *

I have no idea why I decided to finally do this. Asking Catherine out, I mean. Obviously, it's something I've wanted to do for a while, but it's just a stupid thing to do.

For starters, she's straight. Blatantly so. She dates men; a lot of men. I probably shouldn't be so relieved that most of them are bastards, but I am.

Also, even if she was gay, the odds of her liking _me_- when she could have just about anyone- are pretty pathetic. I'm a pretty plain human being.

Now Catherine- she's anything but plain. She's absolutely gorgeous. Blue eyes that make my soul melt; amazing strawberry blonde hair that I just want to wrap around my finger; an incredible body that makes it far too easy for me to imagine her as a dancer; She's just… stunning. completely stunning.

No way in hell she'd be interested in someone like me. I'm her worst enemy, for God's sake!

And yet for some reason, I'm standing in front of her office door. About to ask Catherine out on a date.

What made me think this was a good idea?

Oh yeah. She gave me one of _those_ smiles. The one usually reserved for her dates. Even if it was just in my head, my heart almost burst out of my chest when she smiled at me.

I knock on her door, and wait for her to say something.

"Come in."

I do just that. I open the door and walk in.

Wow. She looks gorgeous. She always does, of course, but at the moment… I don't think words can suitably describe her beauty. Her hair's slightly mussed, and she's wearing those sexy glasses.

Her entire face seems to light up when she sees it's me inside her office. From my point of view, at least. It doesn't mean a thing. She's probably just happy to have a distraction from paperwork.

Why she'd want to when she looks that fantastic doing it is beyond me. But there's no other reasonable explanation for that look in her eyes.

I don't want to get caught staring, so I think I should probably get to the point quickly. Though… she'll know exactly why I'm staring when I do ask her… Screw it, she doesn't like me, so I shouldn't be staring at her.

Still… that smile she gave me…

Snap out of it, Sidle!

"Hey, Cath. I wanted to ask you something." Considering how nervous I am, I'm surprised at how calm my voice sounds. I guess knowing that I have no chance sort of takes the suspense out of it.

But for some reason, I can't resist asking.

"Oh? What?"

Here goes- at least I'm too far away for her to slap me…

"I was wondering, would you like to-"

"Ms. Willows, you have a visitor at reception."

Damn.

"Okay- tell them I'll be right out." She turns back to me. "What was it you wanted to ask me, Sara?"

I should back out… it's probably one of her boy toys, and asking her out now would be incredibly awkward for both of us.

"Nothing important- I think I figured out the answer, anyways." My guess is that she would say something about not being into women, and that she is _definitely_ not attracted to me either way. I don't even know why I was going to ask her.

"All right then, I guess. I've uh, got to go- I have a date."

Ouch. If she hadn't said she was going out on a date, I might have been able to get through this minimal pain.

As of now, I feel like a vice is about to clench my heart; the morbid anticipation is there, but I'm not quite aware of the pain yet.

Against my better judgment, I follow her out to reception.

Catherine's walking towards someone with a bouquet of roses with a smile on her face. She accepts the flowers with a grin, and kisses her darker companion.

Pulling back, she's still smiling, and I get my first view of her partner.

There's the pain. Her date is a woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, and tan skin.

She didn't have a problem with women… she had a problem with me… not surprising but still…

I need to get out of here. I need to stop looking at Catherine. I need to stop feeling her happiness from across the room.

I walk back to the break room and sit down on the couch.

All I can feel is the mind numbing pain that's rushing through my body. I can hardly breathe, it hurts so much. My breath keeps on catching in my throat.

My heart feels likes it's been ripped out of my body, had needles placed in it, and put in a vacuum; draining all the blood out of my heart and shrinking it.

Only it's worse than that. A thousand times worse.

"Sara?" Greg's standing in front of me. He's trying to smile, but there isn't any happiness in it. Just sympathy.

He knows the drill- whenever I see Catherine with one of her boy toys, I go to some bar with him and get wasted.

Greg is the only person who knows about my feelings for Catherine. He found out when we met up at a bar the morning after I saw her with a man. I think it might have been Chris, but I've lost track somewhere along the line.

Getting drunk is usually a nice way to dull the pain. Or it makes it impossible for me to experience such extreme emotions. I don't know which.

But I don't think it's going to work tonight.

"Tell Grissom I'm going home… I feel sick…"

Greg nods. "Do you want to-?"

I interrupt him. "Thanks for the offer, Greg, but I don't think alcohol is going to be enough tonight." My voice sounds completely dead.

"Okay," he says softly. Damn, why couldn't I have fallen helplessly in love with _him_?

Somehow, I've made it home. My first instinct is to grab a beer and spend the rest of the night on the couch. But like I told Greg, I don't think it'll be enough tonight.

No idea why.

It's not like I haven't seen her with a date before.

Seeing her with a female date is hardly any different.

I just need to accept that she doesn't love me, and she never will. Even if she doesn't have a problem with dating women, she will never be interested in me.

I knew that. It shouldn't be hurting like this. Hell, it shouldn't be possible to hurt like this without crying.

I pick up the bottle and take a long swig from it. I told Greg alcohol isn't enough to dull the pain tonight.

But it still might help.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I honestly own nothing. Just like a billion other people, only I get to say it more often than I'd like.

AN: What's this? Immi actually wrote a second chapter? That's... odd.

* * *

Oh God, how is it possible for someone's head to hurt so badly?

Right, the alcohol. After I saw Catherine with her…

Date.

Not a boy toy. Judging from the look on her face last night, not any sort of toy.

Great. Now I feel drunk all over again. How is that fair?

Then again, since when is my life even remotely fair?

This sucks.

What time is it?

I groan as I try to roll over and look at the clock on my nightstand. My head hurts like hell, and the movement is definitely not helping.

Come to think of it, my arms hurt too. Now that's never a good thing. Especially not after waking up from a drunken stupor.

I open my eyes, only to close them again when a shaft of light burns them through the gap in the curtains.

Damn, this is going to be fun.

I open my eyes more slowly, and try to get some grasp on my location.

Okay, good. The light hurts like hell, but I can see. I'm in my bedroom.

And… yeah. My shoulders have some pretty nice cuts on them. Damn it, I thought I was done with cutting myself when I got drunk. Guess not.

I look at the clock. Oh that's just perfect. Just a little before shift starts.

Pills. Pills are next to the clock. Did I put them there? No… Greg did.

Greg came over earlier. While I was still drinking. That would definitely explain why I'm actually under the covers.

He must've guessed that I'd come home and do something self-destructive. He probably wanted to make sure that I didn't do something really stupid.

I glance down at my arms again and snort. I'd say this qualifies.

I really am an idiot. I fall head over heels in love with a coworker. A female coworker, who on all accounts appeared straight. A female coworker who hated me until several months ago. And then, after I figure out that said coworker isn't actually straight, and is in fact dating a woman, I go home, get drunk, and cut myself.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I shake my head blearily. My parents used to ask me that question all the time. They usually answered in the same breath. Nothing flattering, of course.

I should get up and take a shower. Or at least clean up my cuts. The caked blood on my arms isn't really comfortable. I definitely need to take a shower.

Sighing, I grab the pills Greg left and down them in one gulp. For a second after I get up, I feel dizzy, but that quickly passes. Good. Maybe this hangover won't be as bad as I first thought.

Yeah, my luck is just that great.

* * *

I need more cough drops. The second I open my locker, I can tell that there is no way I have enough to get through a shift.

Of course.

I think through my options. I could ask Jim for a few. He keeps some cough drops in his office out of habit.

But I really don't want to give him any more evidence that points towards a drinking problem. I have a 'me' problem, that I occasionally deal with using alcohol. That's it. Not a drinking problem.

Not Jim, then.

I could ask Greg for something I suppose. He already knows that I got drunk last night, this morning, and this afternoon.

"You planning on standing there all shift, or are you actually going to move?"

I spin around to see Catherine standing in front of me, smirking. She always looks so damn sexy when she smirks. But for once that isn't what catches my attention first.

There are bags under her eyes. There is no way she got a lot of sleep last night.

But she's glowing.

Oh God. No, no, no, no. I'm not going to think about it. No way am I going to think about her date and what obviously happened last night. No.

"Uh… Hey, Cath."

She frowns at me. "Are you feeling okay, Sara? You sound a bit off."

No, I'm not feeling o-freakin-kay. I'm hungover, I'm pretty sure the woman I'm in love with spent last night fucking her girlfriend, and I can't seem to avoid being turned on by her amazingly hot body.

I really doubt that saying all of that would go over well.

"I think I'm catching some sort of cold." I cough for good measure. "Do you have any cough drops?"

"Yeah, sure. I keep some in my locker." She walks over to her locker, opens it, and tosses a bag at my head.

The bag hits me, and the cough drops fly everywhere. Catherine rolls her eyes and leans down to grab them.

"Geez, Sara. And here I thought you were athletic."

She grins up at me, and just like yesterday, it feels like one of _those_ smiles. And just like yesterday, I'm rendered completely immobile. How can she have such complete control over me?

Too late, I realize that she's cleaned them all up and I'm still staring.

"Hey, are you sure you should be at work today? You look terrible."

That snaps me out of my stupor. Of course, who wouldn't notice when their unrequited love says they look terrible?

"I'm, uh, fine Cath. Just a little out of sorts. Work won't be a problem."

She looks a little concerned, but shrugs anyways, handing me the bag of cough drops. This is one time I'm glad that we aren't really friends. If I were her friend, she would probably want to talk to me about her date. And she would object to me working while sick.

She looks like she's about to walk out of the locker room, but she pauses when she catches a glimpse of my locker.

Shit. She saw my own collection of cough drops. There is no way she's going to overlook that. Not after I took some of hers.

But she doesn't say anything. Her concerned frown just becomes more pronounced.

As she closes the door to the locker room, I sigh in relief. I don't think I would have been able to lie to Catherine if she had asked why I needed more cough drops than I already had.

I shake my head and pop one into my mouth.

Either we're better friends than I thought, and she didn't want to invade my privacy…

…Or we aren't friends at all, and she didn't give a damn.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. And... yeah, I'm out of cute comments to add to that.

AN: Some part of me really thinks I should wait until after Christmas for an update… this stuff is sort of gloomy.

* * *

This has been one of the worst shifts ever. It ranks right up there with Eddie's case, and that's saying something.

It's sort of sad that both shifts I've ended up miserable because of Catherine.

This night has been worse than Eddie's case, actually. Much worse, thanks to Nick, who really needs to keep out of Catherine's business.

Six words, and the entire shift was ruined for me.

"So Cath, how'd your date go?"

Catherine just looked at Nick and grinned in a distinct Cheshire cat manner. She didn't even need to say anything- her smirk nearly shattered my already broken heart.

She's answering him now, hours later, while Grissom and Warrick work some DB at Lake Mead. Bugs all over the place, of course.

"The date was fantastic, Nick. But afterwards was even better." She winks at me as she says the last part.

I know she can't know what she's doing to me. There is no way she can know the torture she's putting me through.

She isn't hurting me intentionally.

Knowing that really doesn't help. It still hurts just as much as if she had put a spike through my heart.

And yet I'm still blushing when she winks at me. 'Cause for just one second, I can imagine that she's flirting with me, and not flaunting just how much fun she had last night.

I really feel pathetic.

Greg's hand is on my knee, squeezing it reassuringly. I look over and smile at him before I pop another cough drop in my mouth.

"What's his name, anyways?"

"You going to do a background check if I tell you?"

"Maybe, but I was thinking more along the line of giving him a medal for making you glow like that."

Damn it, Nick, would you just drop it? She obviously doesn't want to give out details- thank God- so don't go pushing her for them!

"**Fine**. It's Max."

This is hell.

* * *

"Food or beer?"

"Something wrong with both?"

"Well, even though I know how much you love spending time with me, I'm afraid that some humans are capable of sleep."

"Food. I don't think I can handle another hangover next shift. Especially not if Nick's still asking Catherine about her date."

I slam my locker shut as I think of all the questions Nick threw her way. My hangover made things ten times worse, but I doubt I'd have been able to stay silent if not for my headache.

And cough drops. The cough drops helped a lot, even though they aren't really meant to withstand vicious biting.

"Right then. Breakfast it is! Onwards!"

I smile halfheartedly at Greg. I know he's trying as hard as he can to cheer me up, but it isn't helping much.

Still, I might as well **look** like my heart hasn't been trampled, if only to make him feel better.

* * *

When Greg mentioned breakfast, I don't think he wanted me to stay quiet and pick at my food for minutes on end. I think he might have actually wanted some human conversation.

He sighs from his seat across the table, and begins to talk.

"Look, Sara, I know that seeing Catherine with her, uh, girlfriend, was a bit of a shock. But c'mon! It's not like it's any different than her dating men! I mean, this new girl could be just as bad as all of her other dates."

I snort. He didn't see the way Catherine's eyes lit up when she saw 'Max'. And how many of her past dates have actually come into the lab bearing flowers? None that I can think of… and I've noticed. God have I noticed.

"Think of it this way; now you have an actual chance! I mean, you know she's not straight, so why not let her know that you're interested? You look a little like Max, anyways- maybe she's using Max to distract her from you, since you haven't shown any of your feelings towards her! Come on, Sara! Look at this a good thing instead of thinking that the woman you love is with someone else who isn't you!"

"Greg, she doesn't have any feelings towards me besides borderline hatred. We aren't even friends! She's never shown any interest in me, and I'm not going to get my hopes up just because she decided to date some woman who happens to share a few of my features!"

"You've never shown any interest in her, either. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't give up hope! This is no different than the times when Catherine had a boy toy!"

Yes, it is. It's much different than the times Catherine dated her little boy toys. Catherine has never had that glow surrounding her- in my six years of knowing her, no one has inspired that look in her eyes. Screw gender- anyone who can do that to her… she obviously cares for. And it isn't me. Why can't Greg just understand that?

He sighs again and reaches across the table, grabbing my fork.

"Would you stop picking at your food, **please**? Do you have any idea how annoying it is?"

I sigh and drop down my fork. For a second, I think about glaring at him, but he hasn't really done anything to deserve that.

I open my mouth to apologize, or just say **something** that will make this all go away, but the words catch in my throat when I look at who's coming through the door.

Catherine…. And….

_Max._

Pain flashes through my heart, and I fight it back, trying not to look as wounded as I feel.

Catherine looks stunning. She's still wearing her work clothes, but…

Max is causing her to look that way. Max is causing her to look even more gorgeous than usual.

Hell.

"Sara? Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

I try to answer him with limited emotion in my voice, but I don't think I manage it.

"Uh… I'm fine. Look, Greg, I've had all of the food I can manage right now, so I'm… I'm just going to head home, okay?"

Greg looks confused, but he nods anyways, following my rushed pace out after leaving a tip.

I catch one more sight of Catherine and her… girlfriend… as we leave. They're kissing… Extremely passionately… Oh God, I need to get out of here. Now. I just can't handle this. It's a thousand times worse than watching her with any of her boy toys.

I hurry out and walk over to my car- suddenly very glad that Greg and I drove here separately.

"Sara! What's wrong?"

I lean against the car and shake my head. I think I might be close to crying, but I'm mostly feeling hysteria. This is just too damn perfect!

"Oh, nothing! It's just that the woman I love is in there having breakfast with her girlfriend, and they're kissing the living daylights out of each other! So everything's just fan-fucking-tastic!"

Tears start to fall from my eyes. Yeah, that pretty much covers 'what's wrong'.

Greg's eyes widen, and he shakes his head, looking up at the sky like a stupefied goldfish. Then he pulls me into a hug and laughs sadly.

"Geez, Sara- what higher being did you piss off? I mean, you do realize you've gone through more suffering than anyone else I know, right?"

I can't help laughing back, using the same miserable tone.

Thanks, Greg.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: If I owned anything… oh wow. Maybe then I wouldn't be plotting Grissom's imminent demise. Which I am. Anyone want to help?

AN: My mother is truly wonderful. She stood in the line in front of Best Buys for thirteen hours to buy one of my older brothers a Wii. Come on, how awesome is that?

AN2: Something I'd like to point out… even though it will probably get me killed. Catherine actually does care about Max. Sorry, but she does. Her feelings for Sara are still sort of… dormant. So… yeah.

* * *

"You and Wendy should start a club." 

I look over at Greg and glare. He just grins back.

"What? 'Emo Brunettes Who Want Max Dead' doesn't sound like a fun group to you? I think it's a wonderful idea!"

I sigh despairingly and turn back to my paperwork. Thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds without a single thought of Catherine… gone.

"Well, no, that title wouldn't work. I think Sofia also wants to kill Max since Wendy's all depressed now. Hm… I bet that if we started a petition-"

"Greg, shut up! **I'm** actually trying to work here!"

He sticks his tongue out at me. What is up with him today? Normally, I don't mind when he goes back to being his old, hyper lab rat self, but at the moment it isn't really helping anyone.

"And I'm trying to get you to talk with me. Do you have any idea how boring you've been lately? I'm starting to really worry about you, Sara."

I blink at him and turn away. I really don't want Greg to give me another pep talk right now. All they do is get my hopes up for nothing. Catherine is obviously very happy with Max, and obviously wants nothing to do with me.

Shouldn't I be the one in denial here? Not Greg? Not that he really sees it as denial… he thinks of it as looking at the 'situation' more positively.

What I don't get is he can write this off as a simple 'situation'.

_Bezich_- that damn night club manager bastard who actually had the nerve to cheat on Catherine- was a 'situation'. 

_Max_ is a girlfriend.

A girlfriend Catherine really seems to care about. A girlfriend who cares enough about Catherine to come to her workplace and bring flowers.

No one else has ever done that for Catherine- treated her the way she deserves. At least, not since my time in Vegas.

It really hurts that I can't be the one doing that for her. But…

She's happy.

No… more than that. She's constantly glowing.

I can be happy for her. I can. I always knew that nothing would ever come of my feelings for her.

I want her to be happy. She is.

It shouldn't matter to me who makes her glow like that. She's happier, more content than I've ever seen her.

"Are you even listening to me Sara?"

I turn back to Greg and try to smile.

I can deal with this. As long as she's happy…

Lying to myself certainly is a talent of mine.

* * *

I'm going to try and stay sober tonight. That might actually be a bit of a challenge, considering how much alcohol I've consumed since I found out about Max. 

I really don't have a problem with alcohol, it's just one of the easiest legal ways to mute my 'me issues'.

It's better than some of the things I've resorted to in the past, at least.

Just thinking about those other methods makes an uncomfortable shiver run down my spine, and my wrists start to burn.

Maybe I should have taken Greg up on his offer to stay with him. Being alone with my demons has never ended in anything good.

I sigh and collapse into my couch. I'm starting to regret my decision to skip overtime in favor of coming home. At least at work I'd be able to focus on something besides how miserable I am.

For a second, I consider calling Wendy for a group moping session, but I quickly dismiss that thought. As much as I like Wendy, I don't think I can handle talking to yet another person who's attracted to her.

Greg doesn't count- I think he appreciates all good looking women.

My heart jumps as I think of the good looking woman I'd like to be with right now.

Just thinking about her is enough to send me into a nervous sweat. Damn, I've got it bad.

This is ridiculous. Her being with someone else shouldn't make my feelings for her stronger. If anything, they should be easier to ignore.

But they aren't. At work, I've discovered that, despite every effort to push my feelings for Catherine out of my head, I can't stop myself from blushing every time she so much as enters a room.

If I were any more obvious, Grissom would probably notice. Nick's just confused by my behavior at the moment, but Warrick seems to have caught on.

Catherine probably knows if Warrick knows. They're very close friends. Of course, I doubt it would make a difference to her if I didn't approach her. She's probably very used to people holding some sort of unrequited feelings for her. I don't think anyone is immune to her charms.

Once, at a crime scene, I actually caught sight of a married woman (standing next to her equally gaping husband) checking Catherine out.

Of course, really, who wouldn't want a chance to date Catherine? No one sane, that's for sure. She has got to be the most gorgeous woman in the entire world.

Max certainly sees that.

**Damn it.** So close. So close to being able to daydream peacefully about Catherine. Then Max had to interrupt my musings. Wonderful.

My earlier thinking about being able to live with it as long as Catherine's happy is practically in shreds. I love her so much, it physically hurts to think about her with anyone else.

Not being able to really express it is killing me. Along with a few other things.

I want nothing more than to take her out on dates; kiss her softly; gently make love to her.

Knowing that I might have actually had a chance to do those things before Max… God. It's too painful for words to think that I might have lost a chance I never knew I had.

No… no. She would never love someone like me, no matter what sex she's attracted to. I didn't lose anything… You can't really lose what you don't have in the first place…

None of that really helps.

My heart still breaks a little more every time I think about her with Max.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And yet it's **Sara** who gets the hugs. Sheesh.

AN: Sara's getting a little bit better here... after this she should be not as angsty. I hope. Who really knows. Hope people had a Merry Christmas yesterday! Mine was... odd. Way too many people in one house. Dizzy.

* * *

It has been four weeks and three days since I found out about Catherine's girlfriend. 

During that time, I have come to work hungover about… seven times; gone through three bags of cough drops; oh, and I managed to cut myself several times while I was drunk. At least I don't cut while I'm sober.

Catherine's hurting me enough to satisfy my masochistic nature then. So great.

The only thing that I haven't done is gone to some gay bar and picked up a Catherine look-alike. But I'm depressingly close to that point. Greg thinks that a one night stand would be good for me, though, so who knows what could happen.

Now that Catherine's in a healthy relationship, she seems to clock out much earlier. I know that's not realistic- she never liked working overtime- but I can't help but think it.

I see her a lot less than I used to.

I thought that my heart couldn't hurt any worse. I thought that seeing her with Max every few days had just completely destroyed me. But not seeing her at all… God, it really shouldn't be possible to hurt this badly.

Work used to be my solace. Now, I can't decide whether or not I want to go or not. I mean, working can distract me easily. But it also makes me aware of the amount of time I don't see Catherine.

Which is really, really depressing.

At least Grissom seems to have picked up on my mood. He teams me up with Greg almost every shift, and makes sure that any rape or domestic violence cases go to someone else.

I guess dating Lady Heather makes one a bit more sensitive when it comes to observing people.

It really is a good thing that he's finally in an official relationship with her. I think I might have ended up shooting him if he came to me and said he was worried- no, **concerned**- with my recent behavior.

I sigh and roll over into the back of my couch. I haven't been sleeping in my bed since the day Greg found me passed out on the floor. For some reason, I just don't feel quite so comfortable on it.

Besides, given the amount of time I spend sleeping lately, I don't think the surface really matters.

It's funny- I had almost forgotten how bad my nightmares can get when I'm under some sort of emotional stress.

Now, I can't believe how I forgot. Watching blood splatter my bedroom wall every night over and over again is a whole new sort of Hell.

I can't decide which affects me more. My not-so-happy-sunshine childhood…

…Or Catherine having a girlfriend.

It is really, really sad that I can compare the two. I mean, I might be in love with her, but isn't this a little much? She's fucking **happy** without me around. There's nothing awful about that.

I roll my eyes and slam my now empty beer bottle onto the coffee table. This is getting me nowhere. I need to go out and do something before I lose myself in my own misery.

I really wish I hadn't requested a day off. Why had I done that anyways?

Oh yeah. Catherine had a day off. I wanted to be away from work so that I wouldn't think about just why she wasn't there.

What sort of screwed up logic is that?

I shake my head and get up from the couch. I'm going to go running or something.

* * *

My ears feel like they're bleeding, my legs are on fire, and I can't see. 

I haven't felt this great for months. This is just wonderful. It's been way too long since I've done something like this.

Running in near-freezing weather is a bad thing. It just isn't that healthy. But I honestly can't think of better conditions when running off the pain of a broken heart.

And on the list of things that aren't healthy that I've done these past four weeks, running in bad weather is at the bottom of the list.

This is something that's at least making me feel better. I'm not drowning in depression because of this. So it can't be all that bad.

I can feel myself grinning. I think the sheer exhaustion of what I've just done is starting to go to my head. Running for two hours after having very little to eat all day… stupid.

I really can't bring myself to care. I'm actually feeling good. Even thoughts of Catherine being with Max right now aren't bothering me.

She's happy.

Happier than she's been in all the time I've known her.

And I get to see that happiness every day I work with her.

She might be hot as hell when she's angry, but that's nothing compared to the beauty her happiness gives her.

Seeing that is more than I deserve anyways. So it's fine.

I can do this.

I really can be happy for her, even if she's with someone else.

This can work.

I can make this work.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. If I did, there would be fewer buttons on Cath's shirt. 

AN: Grissom left!!!

* * *

Catherine is going to end up killing me if she continues like this.

She obviously doesn't know what she's doing, either, which makes it even worse.

For the past two minutes, she's been leaning across me to read an article I found in some magazine. I forget what it was. The second she leaned into me, the second her warm breath hit my ear, I forgot everything.

My skin is on fire, thanks to her. Why does she have to be so tactile? I'm going to blush myself to death if she stays so close to me. Or I'll do something that I'll regret… like jumping her.

Oh God, there's no way I would regret that.

Shutupshutupshut_up_ Sidle! Get a damn grip! You would regret it, and you know it! Just stay still and don't take deep breaths!

She changes her position slightly, and her left hand ends up rubbing my inner thigh.

I almost moan at the connection.

Oh God, shouldn't she have finished the article by now?

I think my breathing is at a seriously unsafe level right about now. There is no way she doesn't notice…

Oh hell.

She notices. She definitely notices. She's smirking. Never good. This is so bad.

She's moving even closer to me. That shouldn't be possible. She'd have to be right on-

Top of me.

Her breath is hot against my lips, and her entire body is pressed up against mine. Her gorgeous blue eyes have gone almost black with desire…

I can't breathe. This goddess is leaning against me, sending several spasms of pleasure rushing through my body, and all I can do is stare into her eyes not breathing.

Catherine's still smirking as she brings one hand up to brush my neck, making heart beat even faster. Her other hand takes hold of my wrist, and brings it towards her mouth, kissing it gently.

My shudder makes her eyes darken further.

She tilts her head and leans towards me-

* * *

"Hey Sara, it's Greg. I was just calling to make sure that everything's okay with you. I haven't heard from you in a few days, and I'm sort of worried that you did something stupid. So… call me back before I come down to your apartment to check your pulse! See ya' at work tonight! Or earlier!"

I am going to kill that lab rat. Ex-lab rat. Whatever. He has no idea what he interrupted. He is going to die oh so painfully. Did he really have to call? I was in the middle of such a great dream…

I groan and throw a pillow over my eyes. All things considered, this was one of the tamest dreams that Greg has disturbed.

My face flushes at that thought. There have been more than a few occasions where I regret giving Greg my spare apartment key.

Sighing, I toss the pillow off of me and sit up. Geez, I'm exhausted. What did I do yesterday? I'm aching all over!

Oh yeah. I went for a run. Then I had my little revelation. I decided that I would be happy for Catherine instead of thinking up ways of killing Max.

I think Greg actually made a list of how many lives Catherine's new relationship is screwing over. I was on the very top of the list. Highlighted.

Considering that he showed the list to Wendy and Sofia, him not being injured in any way is sort of surprising. The only reason I didn't punch him was because I was depressed then.

I'm not anymore. I'm dealing with this.

Well, I'm going to deal with this. I haven't seen Catherine in- a day and a half? That sounds right- so I haven't been able to test out my new take on things.

Hopefully, my new take on things won't burst into glorious flames when I actually see her again.

I have a hard time even _faking_ optimism, so I'll just have to pray that this will work out.

Let the games begin.

* * *

"Ha! So you aren't dead!"

I glare at Greg. I guess I'm still mad at him for waking me up. Any reminders of that will probably cause a spike in temper. As if I need that.

"Yes, Greg, I'm alive." I really put on the sarcasm with that comment. Yep, definitely still pissed. "Did you make some of your coffee?"

He gives me his wounded-puppy-dog pout. "Sa-ra! That isn't polite! Glaring at me, and then asking for some of my coffee! You should apologize- otherwise you won't get a darned thing!"

I glare again. "I'm mad at you. I'm allowed to glare. And nice people always give their friend's their coffee. Did you make any?"

He sighs and places a hand over his heart. "It's a good thing I like you, Sara. Yes, and you may have the first cup. _If_ you tell me what I did to make you mad."

I keep my gaze trained on him as he taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully. Then he perks up.

"I called you! So… I must've interrupted something! Do tell- who were you with?" His eyes widen. "Or… did I interrupt some ultra-hot dream? C'mon! Don't leave me in the dark, here!"

There are times when I can't decide whether to flush in embarrassment or punch him when he opens his mouth.

Since he's my best friend, I usually just end up blushing and hoping he'll let it go. He never does. Not with non-serious Catherine-issues, at least. There are some times when he actually knows to shut up.

"My lips are sealed, Greg. There is no way I'm talking about it."

"No coffee then."

How many glares do you think it would take for my face to freeze like that?

"Still not saying anything."

I stalk off towards the locker room. I really do prefer coffee before getting ready for work. Since there was none in my apartment, I was counting on Greg to be my supplier. Now I have no coffee. This does not bode well.

Especially since Catherine just entered the locker room, looking livid.

I sigh and follow my girl-

**No!** Not my girl! Catherine! Not. My. Girl.

Oh God, I'm screwed.

She's slamming her locker door opened, and brushing her hands angrily through her gorgeous tresses. I should just walk away.

"Cath? Are you okay?"

She spins around and looks at me. Wow, I can't believe how beautiful she looks right now. I just want to take her in my arms and-

Shut _up_, Sidle!

She sighs and shakes her head. "It's nothing, really. Just… Grissom called me in yesterday- _on my day off_- to cover a homicide! It turns out to be one more notch on a serial killer's belt, and one of the Feds is coming to take the case over."

I wince. I know how much she hates someone taking over her cases. That's something I learned within twenty seconds of communication. Probably why she disliked me so much in the beginning. Things have mellowed out a little bit. I guess.

"I'm guessing your girlfriend and Lindsey didn't really like that?"

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, Sara. You aren't supposed to know that she's dating a female, remember?

Definitely the wrong thing to say, judging from her shocked expression.

"Sara, how did you know that Max was a woman?" Catherine questions slowly.

"Uh… Well, a few weeks ago, when I was in your office, uh, Max showed up, and, uh, I kind of noticed that she was a she. And… the two of you walked into a diner Greg and I were having breakfast at."

She nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well, yeah. They weren't too thrilled. Look… Sara, this isn't a problem, right? I mean, you're a friend, and I want to make sure that you at least… _tolerate_ the person I choose to date."

Scratch that; she looks really uncomfortable.

Wait- did she just call me a friend?!

Wow… I mean… friends? I didn't realize we had made that much progress… This is great! All the more reason for me to be happy that she's dating Max!

Right… and isn't that just perfect?

Oh, she probably wants me to reply.

"Cath, it isn't a problem. Really. I mean, when I first found out, I was surprised as hell, but it didn't actually bother me." At least, not the way you're thinking of.

Now she looks relieved. That's one problem fixed, then.

"So, uh… when's the Agent getting here?"

"About now- which is why I'm in the locker room. I want to look somewhat decent when he gets here."

I smile shyly. "You look great no matter what, Cath. I wouldn't worry about it. I'll just… I'll let you deal with that on your own and leave now. Greg owes me coffee."

She smiles back, not commenting on my blush –thank God. "I'm sure he does."

I nod and head out to leave. Damn it… we're friends. That… that actually makes things worse, I think.

But at least she doesn't hate me. That's a good thing. A very good thing.

I want a drink.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this. Poor Immi.

AN: Yay! I'm in a sour mood! I just got my tri-weekly blood test! And guess what? My entire right arm turned purple! How cool and disturbing is that?!

* * *

I walk out of the locker room in some sort of a daze, walking towards the break room. I really want that drink.

I didn't know that Catherine thought of me as a friend. I mean, when it comes to us, civil is about as warm as fuzzy as it gets.

Really, the conversation we just had was the friendliest one in months. And she started out looking like she wanted to kill something.

This is really bad. I think loving my mortal enemy was a bit healthier. Well, not healthier, but…

Actually, this whole thing sucks. I really want that drink right about now.

I've reached the break room, and Greg immediately bounces up to defend his precious coffee.

"I'm still not letting you near my coffee until you tell me- hey, are you all right?" He stops mid sentence, noticing my far-from-happy expression.

I nod- half-collapsing into a chair- not really sure what I should say. Greg cocks his head to one side and eyes me speculatively.

Then he sits down next to me, still staring.

"Boredom can cause depression, you know. And Grissom hasn't let us do anything interesting all week, so things are bound to be dreary." He stops for a second and places a finger under his chin. Then he perks up and snaps his fingers.

"I got it! It's not that we don't have anything to do! It's that we don't have anyone to do! Let's go to a bar and get trashed!"

I blink. Did he really just say that?

"Of course, for you, it would have to be a gay bar… But we can still make this work! Do you think Nick's sick of being a straight cowboy yet?"

One pinch doesn't mean anything, right? Oh God…

"Greg! No getting drunk in a gay bar!"

He pouts. "But… but… I had everything planned out so perfectly! How can you just ignore my genius solution?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair. "Sorry, Greg, but boredom isn't really my problem at the moment."

He perks up again. "Then what's up? You look worse than Ecklie at the moment."

I stay quiet for a few moments, once again at a loss for words. Then I blurt out what's been on my mind for the last ten minutes.

"We're friends."

Greg looks at me oddly. "Well, yes, otherwise I would never dream of putting up with you-"

"Not us; me and Catherine. She said I'm her friend."

For a second, neither of us says a word. Greg is staring at me blankly.

"This is a bad thing, isn't it?"

I nod, smiling a little at the understatement.

"Did you like the 'getting trashed' part of my plan?"

* * *

"So you're her friend. When did that happen?"

I shrug, carelessly letting some of my beer splash out of the bottle. "I figured that you might know more about that than I do. I completely missed it until she actually told me."

"That's weird. Usually you're the first one to get anything Catherine-related. You would think you would figure out that you were her friend before then."

I wince. He's right. I notice absolutely everything about Catherine. I'm not really sure how I missed this. I'm completely obsessed with the woman, and I'm also a CSI. I should have picked up on **something**.

"So… you wanna change the topic before we get completely wasted? If we keep on talking about Cath, then I'll have to put up with you ranting about how gorgeous she is and how much you love her. That was only interesting the first dozen times, Sara."

I attempt to throw a pillow at his head, but it misses. I should have eaten something today.

"Fine. How's your love life?"

He makes a face and lets his head fall over the couch. "Ugh. You really know how to choose the happy topics, don't you?"

I shrug again. He hadn't made any topic suggestions, so I picked one for him.

"Well, I have a cute new neighbor that cons me into turtle-watching."

"Turtle-watching?"

"Yeah… she has a pet turtle who hates me. Every time I come near it, it tries to get out of its tank and attack me. Vicious little thing."

"And you still watch said turtle?"

Apparently, Greg had some food before his alcohol. His pillow hits me right in the face, and I narrowly avoid spilling beer all over me.

"I said that she cons me into it- sheesh, Sara!"

I smirk at him, and he glares back fiercely.

"Can't we talk about something else- besides our oh so depressing lack of girlfriends?"

"Sadly, that's pretty much all I can think of." Did you really have to bring up the fact that both of us have lousy love lives, Greggo? For a second I almost managed to forget about Catherine.

Catherine and her gorgeous eyes… her beautiful strawberry blonde hair… her luscious body… her-

"Good grief."

I can feel my blush as I tear away from my thoughts and look back at Greg. He looks like an extremely amused Cheshire cat. That can't be good.

"What?"

"You're drooling."

I try to hide my growing blush by taking another swig of beer. There are certain disadvantages to having Greg as a best friend.

* * *

As the night goes on, we both get progressively drunker. Greg has fallen off of the couch, and is currently ogling the ceiling while he sings something under his breath.

I'm still on the couch, staring out into space. And thinking about Catherine. I do that way too much for my own good. But, in my defense, pretty much anything I think about is going to spark some misery. At least with Catherine I can think of the times she's smiled at me before thinking that we'll never be together, and even if through some miracle we **did** end up together, I'd ruin it.

"Hey Sar? Who's your favorite Scooby-Doo character?"

I guess Greggo got tired of singing.

"Favorite _what_ character?"

"Scooby-Doo. You know… _Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We got some work to do now. Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We need some help from you now_… Scooby-Doo. Favorite character?"

"Greg, what the hell are you talking about?"

Greg pops up, head wobbling slightly. "You've never seen Scooby-Doo? What sort of deprived childhood did you have?"

I honestly have no idea why I say it, but I do.

"Oh, just the sort where my Dad beat the crap out of me pretty much every day while my Mom stood back and did nothing- oh wait, no, occasionally she'd join in. And I guess she did kill the bastard, so that's something."

Greg has completely frozen. He obviously didn't expect that.

I can't help it; I continue talking.

"You know, it's probably a good thing Cath doesn't have any feelings for me. I'd just end up ruining her life with all of my issues. She's better off without me."

My face feels wet. Funny. I don't remember crying.

I'm still looking at Greg. He doesn't look too good. I guess the alcohol and the outburst was a little much for him. He'll probably leave any second. I close my eyes and wait for the sound of my door opening.

It doesn't come. I hear footsteps, but they aren't heading away. I open my eyes again and watch as Greg walks over to the couch and wraps his arms around me- all the while muttering comforting nonsense. For a second I freeze, but then I curl into him and let my silent sobs rack our bodies.

God, this is screwed up.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. Or Calvin and Hobbes.

AN: I'm pretty sure I just screwed up any hope of a timeline that makes sense. Joys.

* * *

"**Please** tell me we're here for something **besides** turtle food."

I turn away from the shelf so that I can smirk at Nick. I should probably be a bit nicer, considering that he gave up one of his days off to help me out.

It took some convincing, but he finally agreed to accompany me to a pet store. He still doesn't know why I need him here, but he'll find that out soon enough.

"Just be patient, Nick."

He glowers at me, which I ignore in favor of looking for the correct brand of turtle food. Greg's 'girlfriend' is nearly out, and since I was going to be here anyways, I offered to get some.

I've been offering to do a lot of stuff for Greg lately.

Probably because for the past two weeks, a sense of overwhelming relief has guided my actions towards him.

I told him about my family, the short periods of time I spent living on the streets, the murder, and foster care. Not extremely detailed, but detailed enough to scare away several shrinks.

And all that's changed is that I no longer have to keep any real secrets from my best friend.

He's still my best friend. It'll take a while for me to stop grinning every time I think that.

"Sara… could we pick up the pace just a little bit?"

I shake myself out of my euphoric mood and snatch up the found turtle food.

"Right. Now on to the fun part."

"There's actually a fun part?"

Nick looks incredulous. I think he's already forgotten that he agreed to come here with me.

"Yes, there's a fun part. You haven't gotten a birthday present for Greg yet, have you?"

His eyes light up as he realizes what our second mission is. "No… what do you have in mind, Sara?"

I grin and drag him over to where they keep all the furry little mammals. I point at a little golden retriever puppy that's running all around his crate, attempting to nudge awake his siblings.

"He looks promising, right?"

Nick's eyes are softer than I've ever seen them, and he kneels down next to the crate, looking at the puppy.

Said puppy crashes into the crate in his eagerness to say hello. Nick laughs, which causes the adorable little thing to bite him.

"Ouch! Hey!"

I roll my eyes and join him on the floor, petting the puppy, who seems quite pleased with himself. He greets me happily enough, though he's slightly more subdued than the last time I saw him.

Nick stands back, glaring at the small teeth marks in his finger.

"We're getting Greg **that**?"

"Aww, come on, Nick. He's cute! Just a minute ago you were looking at him as if he were your newborn child!"

His glare switches to me, and I stare innocently back. We hold the gaze for a few moments before he looks away.

Then he sighs and holds out his hand to the puppy.

"Truce? You can't very well live at my buddy's place unless you're willing to deal with me, after all."

The puppy sniffs his hand for a moment before licking it enthusiastically. I smile as Nick tries to pet him through the bars.

"So… does this terror have a name yet?"

"Yeah. According to the nice lady at the counter, his name is Hobbes."

"'Hobbes'? As in, Hobbes the tiger?"

"Right."

Nick shakes his head. "Greggo's going to have his hands full with this."

"Nope. His veterinarian 'girlfriend' agreed to help out. **She** thinks Hobbes is cute."

"Yet I get the feeling that she won't be the one watching the menace until his master's birthday party tomorrow."

He's glaring at me again, obviously having figured out why he's come along for this little excursion.

"Yes, well, I don't have tonight off. And you have a while to get used to the idea. It's going to take a while to gather up everything else we need. Collar, leash, bed, food… toys."

He looks back at the puppy, who is desperately trying to reach his shoelaces through the bars. He sighs despairingly at the cute image.

"Fine, but next year I'm seriously checking out that fantasy place."

* * *

"So, Sara, what have you got planned for me tomorrow night?"

I slam my locker open, rolling my eyes at Greg's greeting for tonight. "You could at least say hi, you know."

"Will there be a cake?"

"There's a possibility of food, yes."

"Alcohol?"

"You stole all of mine, remember?"

He did take all of the alcohol out of my house. He told me that while I didn't have an alcohol problem, I did have problems that I tended to cover up with alcohol way too often.

After I told him about everything, he decided that we needed to find a new method for winding down. It's a bit annoying, but it's kind of nice to have someone worrying about my well being.

"What did you get me?"

"That would be a secret, Greggo."

"You didn't get me a remote controlled car again, did you? That didn't really end well last year."

"What, you don't like fireworks on your birthday?"

"Sara! Give me a hint, **please**!"

I'm about to respond when someone else storms into the locker room, destroying the friendly atmosphere as they slam the door shut.

Oh.

My.

God.

My eyes widen. I can't be dead, because I would definitely go to Hell in that case, and this is anything else.

Though it is rather hot in the room, now that I think about it.

Standing before her locker is an extremely pissed off Catherine Willows.

Removing what must be the most revealing dress I've ever seen on her. Excluding the times I've caught her changing before, I have never gotten such an eyeful of her cleavage and backside.

I audibly gulp when I realize the sweat is dripping down her breast bone, and my eyes are following its path.

"Uh… Cath?"

She turns and sends a fiery glare at me, making my face heat up dangerously.

For a moment I fantasize about what it would be like slamming her up against her locker and removing that dress- tasting the sweat off her flushed skin as I slowly take her.

"**_What?_**"

Torn out of my daydream, I am left staring mindlessly at her.

I clear my throat nervously, praying to whatever higher being that will listen that she doesn't know what I was just thinking.

"Um… are, uh, you okay?"

"No, Sara, I'm not okay. I just got torn away from my date because that **bitch** called and told me that she **thinks **another body from our serial has shown up!"

I'm pretty sure she's talking about the FBI agent. Since Grissom's using kid gloves with Greg and I, we've only run into her once. She didn't seem too bad, but then again, I'm not working with her.

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to get myself changed!"

As she says those words, my brain finally notices that she's still removing her dress, and isn't wearing a bra.

Going completely crimson, I reach behind me for Greg's arm and dash out of the room.

Once we're out, I let go of him and collapse against a wall. Greg is still wiping off drool.

"Wow," he finally manages.

"Yeah," I agree.

"There are some definite pluses to her dating Max, I'm thinking."

I just nod along, a bit too stunned to do anything else. We both just sit for a second, trying to figure out what higher being to thank or curse. Then Greg turns to look at me, an awed expression on his face.

"We need to buy that FBI girl some flowers."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: CSI does not belong to me. If it did, 7x17 would have thirty less seconds.

AN: Yay. And update. Happy.

* * *

Nick suggested going to a bar after the party. It took a while for Greg to agree- he didn't want to leave Hobbes- but after the puppy fell asleep in his 'girlfriend's' arms, he was a little more eager to participate.

Now, of course, he's drunk. No- buzzed. He told me that he wasn't drunk, just a bit buzzed. Either way, I'm dragging him home soon. Nick's already left with some cute redhead. Which really sucks because he was probably the least drunk out of the three of us.

"You know… When I was a kid, my dad's friend screwed up this riddle."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. He asked me how long it would take a snail to climb up a drain if it moved four inches every two days, but slipped five inches every day. I remember being sad when I found out that the snail would never reach the top."

I think I know where this is going. "Greg…"

"I don't want you to keep slipping, Sara," he say seriously. Then he grins and takes a long swig of beer.

I sigh and turn back to my own drink. How is it that we seem to have our most important conversations while intoxicated? That can't be a healthy habit. Not caring much anymore, I approach the tabooed subject.

"How did you deal with it?"

Greg tilts his head to the side and blinks owlishly. " 'm not you. And we're good friends. I'm not an idiot. I like being friends with you. You and Cat are weird."

I shake my head at his statement. "Gee, how profound."

He nods vigorously and swivels around on his stool. "Yep. I got over it. I loved you, but I still, you know, gawked at and dated other woman. See? Not you. I can go out with another person when I love someone who doesn't love me. You can't do that 'cause you don't wanna use someone."

He stops for a second, trying not to fall off his stool.

"You can't go out with other people. You can't turn off or avoid your feelings. But you're the suttburn-stubbornest person I know. If you want to stop being miserable, just tell yourself to stop being miserable. That could work. I mean, how d'ya deal with the stuff with your family?"

That worked for six years. But it's like a dam's broken in my head, and depressing thoughts just keep on pouring out of me. With my family, things just randomly stopped bothering me. God knows how.

"Need more beavers," Greg suggests. "Or fire. Evaporation. Dam's broken and making new rivers. Kinda bad."

I guess I spoke my analogy out loud. Wonderful. I turn my wrist over and look at my watch. We should really get going.

"Greg, let's get you home."

Greg bobs his head up on down. "OK. Cool. Yeah. Awesome."

I roll my eyes and sling his arm over my shoulder before throwing the necessary cash on the bar.

"Right. C'mon, birthday boy."

* * *

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. This is stupid. Really, really stupid. But if it works, I can get back to being me again. I hate constantly feeling like Hell.

And if it doesn't work… well, things are pretty much as bad as they're going to get, I think. If they get worse…

I can't believe I'm taking the advice of an intoxicated Greg.

"_Know what helped?"_

_Trying to drag Greg up the stairs without hurting him is more difficult than I would have thought._

_Him talking randomly isn't helping much._

"_No, Greg. What helped?"_

"_Ya wouldn't kiss me. No matter what I did, ya wouldn't kiss me. I knew there was no way. Cat isn't like you. And you're not like me. So it's all tough."_

_I stop for a moment._

"_Yeah. It is all tough."_

Okay, time to do this.

I ring the doorbell and pray that it's Catherine that answers the door. If I concentrate, I can hear voices and footsteps. Max is there too. If she answers the door, I think I'll just try and run away without her getting a good look at me.

"Sara? What are you doing here?"

Catherine. She's wearing a robe. Only a robe. I must have… damn.

I force a smile and stand up a bit straighter. "Sorry," I whisper. I'll let her decide what I'm sorry for.

"No, it's fine, really-"

She looks so cute trying to wrap her robe tighter around herself. She showed off more skin when she was in the locker room with Greg and I.

The memory temporarily kills stuns my brain cells, and without really thinking, I lean forward and tentatively brush my lips against hers.

Her lips are so soft and full… God, she tastes good.

I don't want this moment to ever stop. When it stops, my brain will remind me that she hasn't responded and that this is entirely one-sided. But her girlfriend will be coming to check up on Cath any moment now.

Pulling back reluctantly, I get a wonderful look at her shocked expression.

"I love you."

Her eyes widen even further.

I attempt a smile and shrug self-deprecatingly. "Sorry."

She's too shocked to say anything right now, but the fog is slowly disappearing from her eyes. I turn around and walk away quickly. I don't need to stick around and hear her rejection, no matter how tempting it is.

I'm not quite sure whether the waves of tears flowing down my cheeks are of relief or sadness.

Damn. I'm actually crying over a romantic issue.

Of course, **Catherine **is the cause of my suffering, so…

I'm going to be **so **hungover tomorrow.

* * *

"What did you do to her?"

I turn the page of my magazine and smile without looking up.

"Depends. Who are you talking about?"

I didn't know it was possible to hear someone roll their eyes.

"Catherine! She's avoiding you! Ducking around **glass** walls in attempts to hide from you! She's being civil to the FBI girl! What did you do to her?!"

I get to roll my eyes this time. Greg's exaggerating. She's avoiding me, yes, but she hasn't run away from me. The only hint of her fleeing was when she was standing in front of the coffee machine, and I asked her to move. She got the typical 'deer in headlights' look before smiling at me awkwardly and walking out of the room.

I wonder how long it will take her to talk to me about what happened. She won't just keep avoiding it- I know her. Right now she's really unsure of how to act around me, and she hates that. The only way to fix it is to talk to me.

I'm guessing that her opening statement will probably contain something about how much alcohol was consumed at Greg's party. There's no way she missed that I had been drinking.

"I kissed her, told her I loved her, and drove away."

After a few moments of silence, I look up to find Greg gaping at me in complete and utter shock.

"Was it any good?"

I grin at him rather than answering verbally. He continues to stare for a minute or so before grinning in return, shaking his head.

"So she's trying to figure out how to let you down easy?"

"Yep."

He taps his chin thoughtfully, then stops- grinning like a madman. "I could tell her that rejections are too difficult, and she should just slam you up against your locker."

It really is too bad that Catherine doesn't listen to Greg as often as I do.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI. Good grief. I'm sick of saying that.

**AN:** Major apologies for the long wait. I don't really like working on this when I'm sick, and once I figured out I wasn't getting much better, I couldn't write anything I was happy with. Major, major apologies.

* * *

I shrug my jacket on and sigh. I need to talk to Grissom at the start of next shift. Any more shifts of paperwork, and I'll go insane. Especially if Greg isn't around to annoy me. Catherine recruited him a few hours ago. She didn't look at me when she dragged him away, but she did blush a bit. 

"Wow, you're actually leaving on time?"

Wow, she's actually talking to me. Still not looking at me, though. And she's blushing again. I don't think I've seen her blush before this shift. It's cute. Really, really cute.

"Yeah. Sticking around just to do paperwork didn't really appeal to me."

She nods distractedly, still not meeting my eyes. I start to feel a little guilty. Catherine's obviously uncomfortable around me, and as cute as an uncomfortable Catherine Willows is…

I shift my stance awkwardly. A few tense moments pass with neither of us moving. Catherine opens her mouth to say something, but before she can I make my way out of the room. I still plan on letting her think I don't remember, and if she asks me about it, I'll have to tell her the truth.

On my way out of the locker room, I nearly run into Greg. He swerves to avoid me, which causes him to trip over his own feet. I manage to get a hand on his shoulder just before he falls flat on his face.

"Easy, Greg. You aren't going to have much luck romancing your neighbor if you ruin your smile."

He grins up at me, completely ignoring my statement. "Ah, Sara! Just the person I wanted to see- I need your help."

I raise an eyebrow. "With what?"

"Well… You see, Claire has to go to work early today, so I was wondering if you could drop by my apartment and play with Hobbes until I get there. I promised the FBI agent to help her with something, so I can't leave right now. It wouldn't be for very long- just an hour- maybe two. Pleeease?"

I have to laugh at the hopeful expression on his face. I think he's only a few seconds away from getting down on his knees and begging.

"C'mon, Sar! I won't be able to concentrate if I keep imagining his cute little face at home alone! Please?"

I roll my eyes and smile at him. "Fine. But only because you look so pathetic."

He glares at me and sticks out his tongue. "Well it got you to help me out, didn't it?"

I shake my head and turn to leave. Taking care of Hobbes sounds a whole lot better than going home and attempting to sleep.

* * *

The second I walk into Greg's apartment, a golden ball of fluff begins attacking my shoes. I kneel down so that Hobbes can greet me more easily. He goes after the opportunity enthusiastically, licking every inch of my face. 

After a few minutes of that treatment, he trots over to his bed and picks up one of his many toys. On the way back, he nearly trips over his own feet, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Hobbes is more than smart enough to feel embarrassed.

Once he gets back over, he drops the toy at my feet and wags his tail eagerly. I pick it up and squeak it, causing his entire body to shake with joy. A second after I throw it, someone knocks on the door.

Hobbes loses all interest in his toy and runs towards the door. He tries to bark a few times, it come out sounding more like a yip, so he settles for scratching at the door and trying to look intimidating.

I walk over and pick him up before looking through the peephole.

Catherine.

What is Catherine doing here? She has to know that Greg's still at work-

Ah. Great.

With a sigh I open the door. The second I do, Hobbes squirms in my arms, trying to jump down and greet her. I readjust my grip and force a smile.

"Hey, Cath. What can I do for you?"

She's fidgeting. And she's blushing again. As if my self-control isn't already strained around her.

More guilt springs up. I really don't think I've ever seen her this nervous about anything. The puppy struggling in my arms gives me an idea.

"Uh, did Greg tell you about Hobbes yet?"

That gets her to look at me. Good. I don't want to have this conversation with her looking at Greg's wall. Though I have to admit that it's a good thing she's stopped blushing. If she met my eyes _then_…

"The tiger?" Confusion is evident in her voice, and I realize that she hasn't noticed the bundle of fluff in my arms.

"The puppy." I readjust my grip on him again and lift him up so that Catherine gets a clear view of him.

She smiles and moves to pet his head, but the hand she reaches out with is attacked by Hobbes' tongue.

"Greg's birthday present."

She nods and her hands stiffens. Her blush returns, and I realize that she knows that I kissed her right after Greg's party.

I watch her wrestle with her thoughts for a moment or two before turning my attention to Hobbes, whose new trick is to chew through my arm to escape.

"Was there, uh… Did you guys drink much?"

I look back into Catherine's eyes and smile at the nervousness and determination there.

"I guess you could say that. I had to all but carry Greg up to his apartment. Why?"

Her blush gets a little darker. "Well, it was just that, uh…" She sighs and shakes her head, still blushing. "Actually, you know what? It doesn't matter. I'm… I'm just gonna go."

She turns to leave and my heart aches. I really didn't mean to embarrass her this much.

"Wait- Cath – " she turns back to look at me " – we're friends, right?" She nods hesitantly. "Well, look, uh… It's just that… it doesn't have to be… I mean… Greg and I are best friends." Good Lord, I'm an idiot.

But I must have said something right, because she's smiling at me. She walks forward a few steps and kisses my cheek, sending my heart rate up to unhealthy levels. She steps back, still smiling.

"Yeah, the two of you get along wonderfully." We continue to stare at each other, and some of the earlier tension returns. Catherine awkwardly breaks the silence. "Look, I should really get home. See you at work tonight?"

I nod quickly. "Of course."

"Of course," she mimics, attempting to lighten the atmosphere somewhat. I smile at her and say goodbye before going back inside Greg's apartment.

I slide down the door and sigh. Hobbes crawls up and licks my face. I subconsciously move to protect the spot Catherine's lips touched.

Well that was fun.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Me no own.

AN: FBI Girl has a name. I'm sure it's a very nice name. But the nice name doesn't sound as fun as FBI Girl. Thanks to RebelByrdie for making me think of using FBI Girl. ...You know, I spent a good ten minutes laughing when I realized I was posting a chapter of a femslash story on Easter. Happy Easter, folks!

* * *

"Score one more for the good guys! Another mugger put away due to the valiant efforts of one Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders! Thank goodness Grissom gave us that case! The sheer difficulty would have had any lesser CSI begging for a hint!"

I smile at Greg's enthusiastic sarcasm. He's been like this ever since we caught the guy. When we first arrived at the scene, he kept his mouth shut regarding the ridiculousness of Grissom giving the assignment to both of us. Now he refuses to shut up.

Not that I can blame him. Grissom pulled him away from helping Catherine for this case. I'd be annoyed too. Though for slightly more complex reasons. If anyone dragged me away from spending time with Catherine…

"You aren't listening anymore, are you?"

Greg's mock-glaring at me, and I smile guiltily. "Sorry, Greg."

He rolls his eyes and goes back to goose-stepping to the break room. I follow him at a slower pace. When I enter the room he's already complaining to Nick and Warrick and FBI Girl. They're all chuckling good-naturedly at him.

Catherine's sitting at the table sipping her coffee almost reverently. Oh, to be that coffee… happy thoughts. Happy thoughts that have no place at work. Right. Sane thoughts aren't nearly as much fun.

"We're going out to celebrate finally catching the bastard after shift. You two want to come?"

I nod immediately. I don't have anything to do at home. Either Greg will go with them, or he'll be out with his neighbor, who actually is his girlfriend now.

I sit down next to Catherine, who seems to be in a world of her own. I clear my throat gently to let her know I'm there before asking the question. "So how did you end up catching the guy?"

She opens her eyes and smiles at me, but not before blushing. Odd… I thought we were done with her being uncomfortable around me? Oh well. At least she's smiling. She can't be too uncomfortable.

"Dumb luck. An officer off duty was wandering down an alleyway while the bastard was cleaning up his latest victim. Five minutes later he's in the back of a squad car."

She doesn't look too thrilled that luck was the only thing that caught him. "Well, at least you no longer have to deal with the FBI agent. That's something."

Her smile becomes rather fixed, and I wonder what could have caused that. "I might not like her, but you apparently do. You don't tend to send random people flowers for absolutely no reason at all, Sara."

She knows about that? "The flowers were from me and Greg. We, uh, felt like we owed her something."

"Why?"

I blush as the image of Catherine taking off her beautiful dress pops into my head. "You don't want to know. Trust me, Cath. You really don't want to know."

She looks suspicious. She places her coffee mug on the table and leans towards me, as if she's going to interrogate me. A split second before she says anything, Greg saves me.

"So, Catherine, where are we going?"

* * *

FBI Girl and I were voted 'least likely to spill the alcohol', so we get to grab drinks for everyone else.

"I never got to thank you and Greg for the flowers. What were they for, anyways?"

I smile nervously at her. "Er... you pulled Catherine away from a very fancy dinner."

FBI Girl smirks to me and nods towards our table. "Ah- you're into that then? I can't really blame you... though I've got to say- you're more my type." She gives me a blatantly flirtatious look and my face comes dangerously close to bursting into flames.

"Uh... no thanks." I'm too hung up on Catherine to consider dating anyone else.

FBI Girl takes the brush off well enough. "I figured. Can't blame a girl for trying, though, can you? You've really got a great body."

Before I can come up with some sort of reply to that, Greg calls out to us.

"Hey! Hurry up with the drinks before Catherine manages to shoot knives from her eyes!"

I look over to see him grinning at Cath. She's glaring at me and FBI Girl. Greg has a good point. I think if she could, she'd be skewering us right now. I shift nervously and move to grab some of the drinks. What did I do? She's been frosty towards me ever since we left the lab!

I sigh and roll my eyes. It's Catherine. That seems to be my answer to everything lately.

FBI Girl chuckles. "Damn. Your girlfriend is seriously possessive, you know that?"

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I smile awkwardly. "She's not actually my girlfriend." Why am I telling her this? I don't want her flirting with me the rest of the night. I quickly make my way back to the table. I don't want to know how she's going to respond to that.

The rest of the night- morning- doesn't go well as far as Catherine's temper is concerned. Everyone else is having a wonderful time, though I could do without FBI Girl and Greg flirting with me so much. For some reason, Catherine's mood seems to respond negatively to their actions. It must be the alcohol. I'm imagining things.

She finally snaps when FBI Girl starts stroking my arm. "Okay, that's it- you're coming with me." She stands up, grabs my other arm, and drags me towards the restrooms.

Once we're there she lets go of me, and I stare blankly at her.

What the **_hell_**?


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI. Poor me.

**AN:** coughs Uh... heh, heh... hiya folks! Uh... Meesa back! Right... it's been forever since I've updated. But thanks to a fairly nice shrink and some pretty new pills, things should be pretty regular from now on. Still, sorry for not touching this for so long. That cliffhanger was a mite evil. Er... Try to enjoy!

* * *

Catherine's pacing around the bathroom, looking absolutely livid. Normally, if I see her like this, I'm barely able to keep my mind out of the gutter. Right now, I'm too confused to even start thinking like that. Catherine always has a reason for being angry with me, and at the moment I can't find one. It's more than a little confusing.

Of course, I know what Greg would say. He would say that she's jealous and is tired of settling for a look-alike. I'm not Greg. He's an optimist and I'm a realistic pessimist.

Catherine has Max. She's very happy with Max. I'm not Max.

So what the hell is going on here?

I frown at Catherine. She's stopped pacing, and is now glaring at me. If we were at work, I'd be thinking of some excuse to leave the room. But we aren't at work. So I just stand my ground and wait for her to start yelling. Hopefully, that will help with figuring out why she's so mad.

"You have got to be the single most frustrating woman on the face of the Earth!"

…Okay, that wasn't expected.

"What?!" I manage to splutter out. She literally drags me in here after snapping at me, and she calls **me** frustrating?

She starts pacing furiously again, muttering under her breath. I can't hear what she's saying, but I'm pretty sure she's cursing someone. Then she stops, and I am once more confronted with an angry Catherine Willows.

"Do you have any idea- you know, I was actually perfectly happy with Max! I never bothered to consider why I was instantly attracted to her- I was happy! And now…"

"**Was** happy? Catherine…" I want to ask what's with the past tense, but she stops me.

"Max and I broke up," she says shortly.

What?! That bitch better not have hurt her, or I'll… I shut my eyes and tear myself away from my raging thoughts, turning my attention back to Catherine.

"It isn't her fault- stop looking like you want to kill something." For the first time since we entered the bathroom, she's smiling. I blush and look down at my shoes.

"What happened?" I keep staring at my shoes, hoping she won't comment on my flushed appearance. This situation is awkward enough already.

"You did."

That doesn't sound good. She doesn't want to kill me for ruining her perfect relationship, does she? …Wait, how did I make her break up with her girlfriend? I could understand Max being annoyed with me for kissing her girlfriend, and that causing an argument which made them broke up, but I can't understand Catherine being the one to end it. It doesn't make any sense.

I dare to look up for a moment. "What do you mean, 'I happened'?"

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She does that a lot when she's angry or frustrated. I guess she did say I was the most frustrating woman on the face of the Earth.

"You weren't all that drunk on Greg's birthday, were you?" She sounds like she's accusing me of something.

With an uncomfortable jolt, I realize that she is. I wasn't drunk, but I let her believe I was so that I could avoid any uncomfortable conversations. I think we're about to have one of those conversations I was fearing.

"I don't know… why?" I don't like lying to her, but I also really don't want to talk about it. Besides, she won't let me write it off for much longer. At the most, I'm just giving myself a few more seconds to breathe.

I hear Catherine walk closer to me, and realize I should have just stuck with being perfectly honest. I can barely breathe now, anyways.

"You know exactly why I'm asking, Sidle. Answer the damn question."

I sigh and look up from my shoes again. She's glaring at me, but there's also a gleam in her eyes that doesn't quite look like anger. I fidget with a thread on my shirt and try not to meet her eyes for too long.

"I wasn't that drunk… someone had to make sure Greg got home all right."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her head jerking in a sharp nod. She already knows I was fully aware of my actions- she just wants to hear me say it.

"You drove to my house directly from Greg's apartment? You didn't have any more alcohol on the way?"

I close my eyes and sigh. Here we go. "I was perfectly aware of all of my actions that night, Catherine. And I believe I have already apologized for them."

"You do love me then?"

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. "Yes, Catherine. I love you. I'm sorry if that complicated your relationship with Max in any way." Even if I have no idea how I could have caused Catherine to end it.

I feel rather than hear Catherine come closer to me. Her hand brushes against my face, while her other wraps itself around my waist. My heart starts beating wildly in my chest, and I slowly bring my head down to meet her eyes.

"Sara, I-"

"Would you two please hurry up with whatever you're yelling about? Being the only girl at the table kinda sucks."

Catherine and I jump away from each other. My face is on fire, and that probably ruins the effect of the glare I'm sending FBI Girl. FBI Girl seems completely oblivious to what she interrupted, and now has a pretty good grip on my arm.

"C'mon- I'm sure we'll all have more fun back at the table."

This is the second time tonight I've been dragged somewhere against my will. I tear my arm away from FBI Girl and continue glaring. At least out here it's too dark for her to see how badly I'm blushing.

She smiles at me, completely unimpressed. "Greg says that I should remind you that she has a girlfriend, and that you're whipped. He didn't want you to get involved in something you couldn't handle."

Funny thing about having Greg as a best friend- half of the time, I wish he wasn't. Then I could punch him without feeling guilty.

"She broke up with her girlfriend."

"So you don't mind being the rebound?"

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I don't know. Catherine is… I'm not sure I have enough self-respect to turn her down if she just wants my body. Wait- no. She doesn't want me at all. She was just going to- to hug me or something. That's all.

I shake my head and make my way back to the table. Greg tries smiling at me, but I ignore him. I don't feel like talking to him right now.

"Sara- would you mind taking me home? I think I've had a little too much to drink." He's lying. He really didn't have that much.

But when I see Catherine walking back to the table I nod and drag him out of the booth. I'm not sure I can handle being so close to her right now. I'd probably end up doing something stupid.

"Let's get going, Greggo."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Someone want to hire me a lawyer?

AN: I updated! Miracles do happen!

* * *

"You know, I'll really be sad to see FBI Girl go. I've gotten used to her being around the lab. And the loss of such a beautiful woman definitely requires proper mourning. What do you think about getting her another bouquet of flowers?" 

I ignore Greg's cheerful attempt at conversation and keep my eyes on the road. I'm still trying not to punch him. I just need to keep reminding myself that, for some reason, he's my best friend, and deep down, I don't want to hurt him.

I can't believe he sent in FBI Girl. I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Things were going great before our FBI friend interrupted. Catherine was so close… I can still feel her breath on my lips.

"Sara… what did I do? You're giving me the silent treatment. Whatever it is, I swear that I didn't really do it- you were just hallucinating."

Okay, that's it.

I pull the car over to curb and turn to glare at Greg. I hold my index finger and thumb in front of him, hoping the visual will help get my point across.

"This close, Greggo. This close to kissing the woman of my dreams. And you know what? If you hadn't sent FBI Girl in to check on us, I would have! Did you ever stop and think about what she might interrupt?"

Greg looks at me blankly and nods. "Yep. That's why I told her to."

He's my best friend. I don't want to hurt him. He's my best friend… I really want to punch him right about now.

Instead, I take a deep breath and remind myself of all of the times he's helped me. It doesn't really help.

"Greg, you're going to have to explain yourself a bit better."

He frowns slightly and places his chin in his hands. "Sara, when it comes to Catherine, you have zero willpower. If something happened between you- I mean… She has a girlfriend! Did you learn nothing with Hank?"

I knead my forehead, trying to relieve my growing headache. "Greggo… she and her girlfriend broke up."

His eyes widen. "Oh. Well… Um… Hey, did you really want your first kiss to be in a bar bathroom?"

I stare blankly at him. I can't hit him now. He looks too pathetically innocent. If it weren't so obvious that his intentions were good… I start up the car again. I'm still annoyed with him. Screw intentions- I had the perfect opportunity to kiss Catherine, and because of him, I didn't.

"How long ago did they break up?"

"I don't know. She never got around to telling me that." We were a little busy not kissing.

He sits quietly for a few minutes, seeming to consider what I said. Then he decides to open his mouth again. I guess he has more confidence in my temper than I do.

"Well maybe I helped anyway. I mean, you don't want to be the rebound girl, do you?"

I glare at him and he decides to shut up. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. If I'm going to have something with Catherine, I want it to mean more than I'm in love with her and look a bit like her ex-girlfriend.

But I got the impression that Catherine ended the relationship…

"Geez. Just watching you think so much makes my brain hurt."

I roll my eyes and sigh. Maybe I can convince his girlfriend to get another turtle that hates him.

* * *

"So, how goes it in the land of Sidle?" 

I smile at Greg's cheery question. I guess he had a better day's sleep than I did. I spent several hours staring at my ceiling trying to figure out if what happened between me and Catherine actually meant anything. Wasted hours. I've still got nothing.

"Nowhere near as well as it's going in the land of Sanders if your grin is anything to go by. You and Claire have fun before work?"

He bobs his head up and down, handing me a cup of coffee. "Yep. We took Hobbes for a walk. He ended up dragging us through a flock of pigeons. It was fun."

I swear, if I didn't like him so much, that dopey 'I'm-so-in-love' grin would probably drive me crazy. As it is, it's good to know that at least one of our lives is going well.

I take a sip of the heavenly scented coffee and lean back in one of the break room chairs. Greg and I are early, which means I have another half-hour before Catherine gets here. I don't know how worried I should be about that.

Greg sits down next to me, stirring sugar into his coffee. "What are you going to say to Catherine when she gets here?"

I shrug. "I have no idea. I'm probably just going to end up avoiding her all shift. Maybe I'll say 'hi' when I see her." That's probably about all I'll be able to say before getting completely tongue-tied.

"Good luck with that. Judging from the way she was looking at you last night, she'll probably drag you into her office and jump you."

Dear God, is he trying to turn me into a nervous wreck before she even gets here? "Greg, shut up."

He grins at me happily. "Aw, c'mon Sara! Can't I have any fun with this?"

I glare at him and pick up one of the textbooks sitting on the table. I can feel Greg pouting at me, but I ignore him and try to focus on what I'm reading. It doesn't help anything. Half an hour before I see Catherine, and I have no clue how I'm supposed to act around her.

Hell, maybe I should just pray that she will drag me into her office and jump me. That would certainly simplify things.


End file.
